


Ship and Compass

by AggressiveStress



Series: Larry Stylinson One-Shots [10]
Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: 2015 - Freeform, Band, Love, M/M, Reality, Romance, Yeah sad, but sad, current - Freeform, i don't know what it is truth be told, i wrote this in about 20 minutes, it's also a mess, it's cute, kind of sad, ship and compass, so it's like eh, sorry bout it
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-21
Updated: 2015-04-21
Packaged: 2018-03-25 02:15:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,401
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3792835
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AggressiveStress/pseuds/AggressiveStress
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>One in which I attempt to write about what I think happens with 2015 Larry.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Ship and Compass

**Author's Note:**

> Please know that I wrote this in about 20 minutes... because I haven't written anything in like 4 months and that makes me feel guilty. I still love Larry and am currently catching up so BANG here's a mind drabble of mine that I felt like writing after watching too many Larry 2015 proof videos.
> 
> Enjoy ???
> 
> xox- M

What they see is only the half of it, half of the disaster that has become the life of Louis Tomlinson.

Thinking back to 2010 helps nothing, so he tries to not do that, but, if he did, he knew exactly what he would remember. He would remember he and Harry, free to hold hands, to cuddle on the tour bus, to sit next to each other, to playfully flirt in interviews, but that’s the past. Those were during the old days, the days where Larry Stylinson wasn’t the main thought of half of their fan base. Today, in 2015, it’s different.

Today sitting next to each other causes uproar, glances in the others direction causes a riot, and god forbid they go somewhere on the same plane. It makes them happy, yes, but when the fandom goes batshit crazy, Management throws the walls up again and they’re stuck for the millionth time in a dark hole they aren’t sure they can climb out of. They find their ways, they find small loopholes, but it isn’t enough. Louis doesn’t think about 2010 because it hurts to remember how close he and Harry were... how in love they were.

When the Larry Stylinson epidemic hit, everything went into chaos. Harry was constantly ripped from his grasp, his side, and their fighting back did nothing to help. Breaking the contract was like breaking the band. They didn’t want to break their band. But not fighting Management turned into something else. That fighting had to be put toward something else and, more often than not, it was put toward each other.

More and more they would get into harsh arguments, yelling and screaming at the top of their lungs until Harry’s sniffling and tear tracks are drying on his cheeks and Louis disappears out the door, slamming it behind him. Louis would rarely come back that night, would usually sleep in the back of his damn Mystery Van that he and Zayn once shared- before Zayn quit, that is.

When Louis did come back, he would be as quiet as possible. He would slip into bed at the earlier hours of the morning, press himself to Harry’s back, and tightly hold the younger boy in his arms although Harry is noticeably lankier than him. Harry wouldn’t say a word, too tired to argue anymore, and he’d just cuddle back into it. They would sleep, but the mornings were still awkward. They seemed to tiptoe around each other, wincing whenever the other shut a cabinet a bit too harshly or placed down a coffee mug with too much force, the glass clinking with the marble counters.

One night, it got to be too much.

They’d been having a nice night. Harry made dinner, Louis quietly hummed while he set up their movie trays for their semi-monthly movie night (the one night they can just cut off their phones and just be with each other), and they were happy, content. It was quiet, a nice atmosphere as they could just be like they were back in 2010, and they never wanted to leave.

Unfortunately, Louis had forgotten to turn off his phone.

When it buzzed with a Twitter notification, Harry immediately pulled out of their embrace to pick it up from their lovely glass coffee table to turn it off- a housewarming gift from Jay. Louis had groaned annoyedly, brushing his fingers through Harry’s overgrown hair and telling him to just ignore it, but Harry’s face had considerably saddened. Louis’ stomach had dropped, pulling away from his boyfriend completely to take the phone from his fingers; he felt rage building in him immediately.

“That’s it,” he claimed, pushing himself off the couch and angrily shoving his phone into his  pocket.

Harry blinked out of his haze, blinked the tears away, “What? Lou, where are you going?”

“I’m going to go knock some sense into those assholes,” Louis turned away, not willing to meet the sad, watery gaze of the man he’d so quickly fallen in love with. Harry reached out for him from the couch, grabbed onto the baggy pant leg of his sweatpants in an attempt to get him to stop moving.

“Stop it,” he said quietly, voice pleading.

Louis ignored him, pulled away, and started to look for his shoes. “Dammit where are they-”

“Louis,” Harry stood up at last, grabbing once again onto his boyfriend, but this time he managed to catch his wrist. “Louis,” he repeats, “calm down. Think about what you’re about to do.”

“I’m about to end this shit-”

“No,” Harry shook his head, trying to remain sensible even though all he wanted to do was burst into tears, “you’re about to get yourself kicked out of the band. We’ll talk with them tomorrow in the meeting, but, baby, just come back to the couch and we’ll-”

“No,” Louis turned at last, looking up just a bit to lock eyes with Harry. His eyes were the only thing that hadn’t changed in the past 5 years, and it was always refreshing to remember them, to remember the nights when their foreheads were pressed together as they tried to fit in one bed of the bunk, when they kept their eyes locked and whispered promises they wouldn’t be able to keep for each other because Management would soon forbid it. “No, Harry, I’m tired of hiding this. I’m tired of watching you be paraded around with girl after girl and I’m tired of pretending like I’m in love with someone who isn’t you. Marriage, though? That’s the last damn straw-”

“Louis,” Harry says sternly, now reaching up to wipe away the furious tears threatening to fall, “please try to get a hold on yourself. You can’t just-”

“I’m tired of people telling me what I can’t do! I can do whatever I want.”

“You sound like a child-”

“You’re treating me like a child.”

“Louis just-” but Louis is storming out the door; Harry chases after him, stops in the doorway. “Dammit Louis if you don’t get back in this house-”

“What?” Louis spins around, eyes daring Harry to finish his sentence, “What will you do, Harry? Lock me away like them?”

“No,” Harry shakes his head, “I’ll lock you out. I’m tired of you making everything worse-”

Louis scoffs, turns back around, “It’s my flat, Harry, you can’t lock me out.”

“Then I’ll be gone by the time you get back.”

In the end, Louis knew he should’ve turned around. He should’ve gone back inside. Should’ve gotten into bed with his boyfriend for the first time in nearly three weeks, should’ve cuddled with him afterward, should’ve agreed to just talk about it in the morning, but he didn’t. Of course not. Instead, he got in his car, revved it, and left the flat without looking back. When he got back, tired and worn out around five in the morning, Harry had disappeared along with two of their travelling suitcases. He fell on their couch- the couch that just screamed Harry with the floral throw pillows and the lovely quilt his grandmother knit them as a Christmas gift last year thrown over the back- and passed out, missing the meeting that morning.

When the boys heard what he did, heard what deal he made, they were more than pissed.

“What the hell were you thinking?” Liam wasn’t big on cursing. He knew about their fan base, about their ages, and he knew cursing wouldn’t really get his point across any better, but he was pissed and that called for cursing. When Louis didn’t answer, Liam kept talking anyway. “You agreed to let Harry go out with another beard so they wouldn’t tell the public you and Eleanor are engaged?”

“He has fun on those dates,” Louis muffles into the couch pillow he’s currently curled around, eyes red from his constant crying, “He hates it more when Eleanor and I have to go out. He would’ve made the deal either way.”

“You shouldn’t have made it for him!”

Louis knows that, of course. He knows he shouldn’t have offered up his boyfriend like that, but he’d been so angry. He was sad, he was angry, he was tired, and he no longer found that much joy in being famous. Not when it meant disaster for he and Harry’s relationship.

“I love him,” Louis says quietly, “Can you tell him that for me when you see him later? I think I’m going to skip the interview tonight. I’ll see you for the radio show in the morning.”

“That’s it?” Liam asks incredulously. “You have nothing else to say for yourself?”

Not to you, Louis doesn’t bother saying out loud.

“First Zayn and now you. Who are we anymore?” Liam leaves the flat after that and Louis is once again surrounded by silence.

When Louis feels miserable, he likes to look back at the old video diaries. Every band member has a copy on a disk and he’ll sometimes put it in just to watch how they used to be, back when they were just starting out, back when they were still excited about it, and he feels slightly better because he has hope that maybe they’ll make it back to that. He has hope that, even with Zayn out of the band, they can still be like that. If they turn themselves around, they can still manage to be happy. So he watches the video diaries until he falls asleep, curled around the pillow that Harry always snuggles with when Louis ditches him after an argument.

Harry doesn’t go to the interview. Instead, he goes home. He goes home and finds his boyfriend asleep on their couch, the end of the video diaries on the telly frozen on a picture of the five of them, grinning on that damn staircase. He slides Louis into his arms, carries him to their bedroom, tucks him in bed, and then gets in himself. He curls around the smaller man, happy to be the big spoon even though it’s just because Louis isn’t awake; even so, Louis’ hand sneakily slips into Harry’s, entwining their fingers before Harry falls asleep, too.

The dagger had been a smooth move, a move Management protested to their last dying breath until Louis found the clause in the contract that said he was allowed any tattoo he may want. Harry went with him to get it of course, showing his healed rose tattoo to their usual artist and asking him to put the dagger in about the same place except on Louis’ opposite arm. Louis didn’t flinch too much, Harry’s hand in his own again making it a hundred times better. Originally, Louis had planned to go by himself if Harry didn’t forgive him, but they’re okay again for the time being. They’ll argue again- they always do these days- but for now they’re just enjoying this small moment of peace.

Fans went insane when Louis exposed the tattoo to the public.

Management nearly had a heart attack.

Louis and Harry danced around their kitchen barefoot and shirtless as their phones beeped and buzzed with millions of notifications from fans having heart attacks over their newest matching tattoos.

It was like, for the time being, they fell in love all over again. They were their usual goofy selves again. Harry stumbled over his legs occasionally, they laughed constantly, and stood up as tall as he could go to pull Harry down just a bit into a kiss frequently. They drowned in each other, sharing kisses and quickly finding themselves tripping their way to their bedroom, Louis dragging Harry’s shirt over his head and tracing his tattoos with loving, steady fingers.

It was like the first time again, taking their time like that. Except, with the first time, they had to rent a hotel on a weekend they had off in the X-Factor and they had to be quiet because of neighbors. Here, in their home, Harry could whimper and moan all he wanted and Louis could praise him, could ravish him. Harry could cry out, begging, and Louis would meet his noises with his own. Toes curled into sheets, nails left scratches in Louis’ back, and they couldn’t remember the last time they were able to do this, to get lost in each other. They took their sweet time. They pampered each other.

Louis dragged his lips across every inch of Harry like it’s the first time again and Harry nipped at his boyfriend’s skin as if he’s still that 16-year-old, unsure of what Louis wants from him and what he doesn’t appreciate. But, they aren’t that 16-year-old and 18-year-old anymore. No, they’ve been together for five years and they know each other’s bodies as well as they know their own. They know the likes and dislikes of the other. They know what drives them insane, what has them hanging on the edge, and they revel in it. Their tattoos align, their bodies move in sync like music, and they create this beautiful thing they hadn’t experienced in so long.

It’s things like this they miss. Not just the sex, but the love. The love they aren’t allowed to share with the public.

“I love you, you know,” Louis says later when Harry is half sprawled on top of him. He’s playing with Harry’s hair and Harry is drawing random words on his chest like ‘love’ and ‘happy’ and ‘content’. The sheets are a tangled mess, covering almost nothing of their naked bodies, allowing most of their tattoos to be exposed, to line up for as long as possible.

Harry lifts his head, locks eyes with this man he fell in love him, this man he will fight for no matter what, “I love you, too. Even if you sometimes are a dickhead,” he laughs when Louis reaches up- with the hand not tangled in his hair- and flicks him in the forehead.

“Shut up,” he says but, if they had any lights on rather than just moonlight, Harry would be able to see the blush lighting up his cheeks.

They kiss softly, sweetly, until they’re too tired to do anything but cuddle as they fall asleep.

Tomorrow, they’ll have to check their phones. They’ll be faced with their reality again. They’ll probably argue about something, but it doesn’t matter.

Not as long as the ship always finds it’s way back home.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm very sorry you put yourself through that mess. Please don't sue.


End file.
